The Somnambule's Crime

  The Cut-Rate Cloud (Naturalism)

The leaves’ mouths are blackening at the edges. It seems funny that my favorite girls are less and less 

tall. This means literally “the august remains a male dress up and attend the cut-rate cloud.” Meanwhile 

sugar’s secret name empales blue letters in the book you’ve written to form a sleeping torso and so. 

Tran-Siberian  grasshoppers flicker in its cheeping perfume lights that Daphne never smiles once. 

Not once.

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